Cop, Con: More Than They Bargained For
by IShouldBeWriting
Summary: Elliot Spencer's life takes an unexpected turn when he sells the spoils of a recent con to Gabriel Bowman. Will his introduction to Detective Sara Pezzini change them both forever?
1. Unintended Meeting

Author's Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the characters from either Leverage or Witchblade. I'm just playing in the sandbox. All of these characters are the property of their respective creators. I'm not making any money off this story. You wouldn't get anything if you sued me.

Author's Note: I blame sleep deprivation courtesy of my 1 year old for coming up with this cracked crossover. I also blame the case of writer's block I've got on my other story. But hey, maybe writing something off the wall will shake me loose and get my other story moving again! For the moment though, I like the idea of this pairing. The dichotomy of a larger-than-life cop possessed by a mythic weapon and a down-to-earth con who'd rather use fists than guns falling for each other just gives me all sorts of ideas.

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Gabriel's shop was quiet. "Calm before the storm," he thought absent-mindedly as he logged some of his recent acquisitions into the book-keeping ledger on his computer. Much later he'd realize how accurately that thought had described the moment before Sara and Elliot met. Elliot's visit was expected. He'd called two days ago offering to sell Gabriel a set of Egyptian funeral masks.

"Yo do understand, Gabriel, that these masks can't be sold to anyone but private collectors? I need your guarantee that these won't be seen by the public for at least a decade or two," Gabriel was well aware of where Elliot got most of the items he sold. Back when they'd first met, Gabriel simply had a don't-ask-don't-tell policy. When something about Elliot shifted last year, Gabe had done some careful snooping. Like any good businessman and hacker he had put the pieces together to connect Elliot to the new later-day Robin Hood's Band with who he now worked. After that change Gabriel was no longer reluctant to buy from Elliot or meet his requests for discrete private buyers. Sometimes Elliot would share details about the jobs they'd pulled over a couple of beers and a round of pool once the business transactions had been completed. Gabriel had been hoping this would be one of those times since he knew Elliot was in town for a couple days. Sara's unexpected arrival changed those plans.

The door opened unannounced. "Hey, Gabe," Sara began familiarly not having noticed Elliot's presence. "I've got another weird one. You got a couple hours to let me pick your brain?"

Gabriel was immediately thankful that he and Elliot had already completed their business. Exactly how quickly could he get Elliot out of his shop without raising Sara's suspicions? There was something distinctly uncomfortable about the idea of having to explain to Sara what Elliot did for a living and why Gabriel was okay buying art from him. Sure, Sara wasn't always 100% legal in the way she went about catching criminals. But Gabriel wasn't sure whether or not she'd approve of Elliot's line of work and he didn't intend on finding out if he could avoid it.

Before Gabe had figured out his approach, Elliot stepped into Sara's line of view and held out his hand genially.

"I don't think we've met before. Elliot Spencer," he let a little bit of native Southern twang into his voice that Gabriel had only heard before when Elliot had a few beers in him. Uh-oh.

Sara plastered an automatic smile on her face as she turned to greet him. "Sorry, I hadn't realized, Gabriel had company..." The smile slid off Sara's face as she actually got a look at Elliot. Her face went blank and her eyes got a distant look to them that Gabriel knew all too well.

"Right! Elliot, this is my friend, Sara. I'd completely forgotten she was coming over. We've got plans so, um, if you and I are finished, I'm gonna have to get going!"

Elliot looked from Sara to Gabriel curiously then gave a half shrug. "Okay, man. Been good seein' ya. I'm 'round for a couple days so why don't you gimme a call if you want to shoot some pool."

Gabe gave him an artificial grin, opened the door, and ushered Elliot out before firmly shutting the door behind him. Gabriel turned back to Sara and immediately glanced down at her wrist to look for the tell-tale glow of the witchblade.

"I don't remember having plans, Gabe. What's the rush?"

"I, um, thought the withcblade was showing you something. What was it?"

"Nothing," the reply sounded completely sincere.

"Then what was with the fake smile?"

"You're friend Elliot looked familiar and I was trying to place the face. Any chance I've seen him before?"

"Nah," Gabriel replied hurriedly, hoping to change the conversation before Sara had a chance to dwell. "Elliot's not from around here. He's an old client that calls me up when he blows through town once in a while."

"Well then I guess I've never seen him before. Anyways, I stopped by to see if you could do some research for me. I've got a dead hitman in the morgue and I'm trying to figure out why he was in town and what the hell he was doing with this in his possession." She pulled out a sealed evidence bag containing a stone tablet covered in engraved writing.

Gabriel breathed a thankful sigh when Sara dropped the subject. He didn't particularly want to explain Elliot Spencer to Sara Pezzini. Or more specifically, he didn't want to explain Elliot to DETECTIVE Pezzini.

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Okay folks, if you liked it, feed the author with some good reviews so I've got a reason to write more!


	2. The Open Door

Author's Note: Okay folks, I KNOW you're out there. You know I can see the traffic hitting this story and my other story. So what's with not leaving feedback? Hell, Even if you didn't like it, I'd like to hear from you. Rotten tomatoes are better than sour grapes any day of the week......

Author's Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the characters from either Leverage or Witchblade. I'm just playing in the sandbox. All of these characters are the property of their respective creators. I'm not making any money off this story. You wouldn't get anything if you sued me.

Author's Note: I blame sleep deprivation courtesy of my 1 year old for coming up with this cracked crossover. I also blame the case of writer's block I've got on my other story. But hey, maybe writing something off the wall will shake me loose and get my other story moving again! For the moment though, I like the idea of this pairing. The dichotomy of a larger-than-life cop possessed by a mythic weapon and a down-to-earth con who'd rather use fists than guns falling for each other just gives me all sorts of ideas.

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As usual, Elliot Spencer played a hunch. Something about the woman who'd dropped by to visit Gabriel had seemed off. After this many years as a hitter, he'd learned to always believe his gut. He climbed back into his rental car and waited to see where the woman would go. He'd finished the job he was in town for and didn't need to be back home for a couple more days. The worst that could happen would be a couple wasted hours.

2 hours later a delivery guy showed up from an Italian place. An hour later the woman, Sara, came outside and gave Gabriel a brief hug before departing. (Right, obviously she's a friend, not a lover. Elliot categorized quickly.) She climbed onto a "real" motorcycle and slipped into the light evening traffic. (At least the lady had good taste in rides. Elliot refused to call the crotch-rockets made by mostly Asian manufacturers REAL motorcycles.) Elliot debated whether or not to continue following her for the space of a single heartbeat. FOLLOW, his gut whispered. He eased out into traffic a couple car-lengths behind her. The bike and it's rider zipped in and out of traffic aggressively as she made her way cross-town. Despite the barely legal driving habits, somehow she never seemed to blow through a yellow light. The lights were almost always in her favor and when they weren't she sat patiently like the rest of the traffic rather than inching toward the stop line and gunning her engine. Elliot had to chuckle ruefully since he knew EXACTLY how many tickets he'd gotten just in the last month for the sort of driving she seemed to pull. Hardison was constantly on his case about having to hack the police department to write his violations off as paid.

20 minutes later, the bike pulled up at a mundane looking residential building. Sara got off, locked the bike, tucked the helmet under her arm, slung a messenger bag across her body, and entered. Elliot found a parking space and waited to see whether any of the floors above suddenly sprouted new lights inside. Lights popped on in the top floor, so she lives alone, Elliot thought. He climbed out of the car and walked down the alley toward the fire-escape. As he looked up contemplating how to get onto the suspended ladder without making an unholy racket, he noticed a man-shaped shadow perched on the top floor. Considering his options for a moment, Elliot turned around and walked back to the car as quietly as he could.

Picking up the phone, he dialed. It rang twice before, "Talismaniac- Hey Elliot, what's up?"

"Your lady-friend might want to call the cops. She's got a stalker hanging around on the fire escape outside her window."

"Um, yeah. No worries, man. She knows about Ian. Don't bother calling the cops."

Elliot paused.

"Care to explain that one?"

"No," Gabriel replied shortly. Elliot had never heard Gabriel be short much less intentionally rude. Now his curiosity really was piqued.

"Right, well then, I guess I'll just mosey back to my hotel..." Elliot tried to sound casual.

It finally occurred to Gabriel that something wasn't right here. "What exactly were you doing in the alley next to Sara's building?"

Elliot hastily snapped his phone shut severing the connection then powering it off for good measure before contemplating his next move. So plan A for being subtle and polite hadn't worked. As Nate would say; there's ALWAYS a plan B. He got out of the car again, walked into the entryway of the building, and scanned the list of apartment numbers. How convenient that there was only ONE apartment on the top floor listed as belonging to an S. Pezzini. That explains the choice of take-out food, Elliot thought as he pressed the buzzer.

"Yeah?" came the staticky reply through the intercom.

Not "Who is it?", but an aggressive and self-assured response that was utterly New Yorker to the core. Obviously the lady's not timid, Elliot mused. Somehow the thought left him a little uncomfortable in a way that he hadn't been in quite a while. He tried not to think too hard about the feeling, something he usually buried deep. Cons can't afford the collateral damage of friends and lovers, he reminded himself. Before he could contemplate that line of thinking any farther, an arm shot out from behind the security door and yanked him inside shoving him roughly up against the wall before he'd taken stock of the situation.

A gun clipped to the waist of her jeans dug into Elliot's thigh. "You always make a habit of following around your business partner's friends?" The woman steamed at him with barely contained anger.

"I've known Gabe long enough to tell when he's acting off. I wouldn't be protecting my interests if I didn't check it out, "he replied as neutrally as he could. Elliot really HATED guns but the idea of disarming this woman didn't sit right somehow. The arm against his throat eased up a bit.

"Right. Well, last time I checked, most of Gabe's 'business associates' don't know how to tail someone as well as you obviously do. Care to explain?"

"Only if you'll explain why it's okay that there's some guy hanging out on your fire escape..." he left the challenge hanging in the air.

Sara muttered a curse and whipped out her phone hitting one of the voice dial buttons.

"Hey, Nottingham? Knock it off. Go get a life or go home to that psychopath you call your master."

"Whoa, Master?" Elliot muttered before he could help himself. "What kinds of kinky shit are you into lady?"

Sara tossed him a dirty look, "-I don't care what he'll do to you if you leave. Get the fuck away from my window."

She snapped the phone shut, abruptly pulled away from Elliot, and stormed back up the stairs without a word. Intrigued, Elliot followed. The woman, Sara, he had to keep reminding himself, obviously didn't view him to be a threat. Elliot wasn't sure whether she was too naive to know better or too jaded to care. Either way, the intrigue grew deeper as he hit the top floor and found the door standing open in silent invitation. Inside, Sara was on the phone.

"Yeah?" from outside the door he caught a one sided half of a conversation. There was a pause as she listened to the reply

"Okay, Chief, but I'm going out on a limb trusting you on this one."

"Fine, fine. I believe you." Pause. "Nah, unless he's got some prophetic bug up his ass, Nottingham will probably lay low for a couple days." Pause. "I'll swing by tomorrow. Beers, and you give me a FULL explanation."

She hung up and turned around looking expectantly at the doorway where Elliot lingered just out of sight.

"You know I don't leave my door open to pay the building's heat bills, Mr. Spencer. Either come inside or get lost already."

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	3. An Invitation

Author's Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the characters from either Leverage or Witchblade. I'm just playing in the sandbox. All of these characters are the property of their respective creators. I'm not making any money off this story. You wouldn't get anything if you sued me.

Author's Note: I could use a beta. Anyone interested? I could also use some reviews. I'd really enjoy the feedback and would get inspiration from it!

Elliot walked into the top floor apartment and quickly revised his assumption. Sara Pezzini was obviously single, not wealthy, not a girly girl, and not one to keep much in the way of personal attachments. The apartment was spartan; furnishings looked mostly used and haphazardly assembled into something functional but not necessarily decorative. Obviously while the woman lived here, she didn't care much about creature comforts. A girl after my own heart, Elliot thought ironically.

"So, Gabriel says that I can trust you. Coming from him, that means a lot. There aren't many people in this world that I take at there word but Gabe is one of them. Care to tell me what you've done to earn that from him?"

Elliot shrugged. "Don't know. I've been selling him privately held art and artifacts off and on for years. Once in a while we have a couple beers together when I'm in town."

In all honesty, he didn't know why Gabriel trusted him. Sure they'd done business numerous times over the years, but that didn't mean he'd shared much with the young entrepreneur about his personal life. Elliot wasn't exactly the sharing type. On second thought, from what Elliot had seen over the years Gabriel's hacking and research skills might rank just a bit below Hardison's and he certainly was better at putting together the pieces of a puzzle. Elliot made a mental note to see if he could figure out exactly how much Gabriel did know about him.

"So, why does Gabriel have the impression that it's okay for some creep to be hanging around outside your window. Last time I looked most ladies don't appreciate that sort of behavior."

"Let's just say that my very own personal stalker is the price I have to pay for the life I lead. I won't say he's harmless but he's not going to harm me any time soon."

Sara sounded so self-assured that Elliot looked up. There was a vicious and predatory gleam in her eye that he recognized all too well. He saw that gleam staring back at him from his own blue eyes in the mirror most days. Who the hell was this woman? Elliot knew with certainty that she couldn't be a hitter. For that matter, she'd admitted that they guy stalking her wasn't harmless, just harmless TO HER. The mystery surrounding this woman was growing and Elliot finally had to admit that it turned him on in a way that nothing else had for a really long time.

"So since Gabriel vouched for my character, can I offer to take you to dinner? I'm in town on business, don't really know anyone, and would enjoy some company rather than eating alone."

Sara was taken aback. The guy tailed her, snooped into her personal life, then asked her out to dinner? Something didn't add up and she was curious enough that she was willing to take the bait, even if she knew it was bait in the first place. She could bilk Gabriel for information on the guy tomorrow and she could always run a background check on him just to satisfy her curiosity.

"Why not. It's been a long day and I'm a rotten cook. I was going to eat cold leftover take-out. Out for dinner sounds far more appealing." And, if she had to admit it to herself, Sara couldn't claim that the company would be unenjoyable. Somehow Elliot Spencer intrigued her in all the right ways. He was that itch she so desperately wanted to scratch. And given that he wasn't likely to stick around, she didn't feel any obligation for anything more than dinner to come of the evening.


	4. A Puzzle Waiting To Be Pieced

Author's Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the characters from either Leverage or Witchblade. I'm just playing in the sandbox. All of these characters are the property of their respective creators. I'm not making any money off this story. You wouldn't get anything if you sued me.

Author's Note: I blame sleep deprivation courtesy of my 1 year old for coming up with this cracked crossover. I also blame the case of writer's block I've got on my other story. But hey, maybe writing something off the wall will shake me loose and get my other story moving again! For the moment though, I like the idea of this pairing. The dichotomy of a larger-than-life cop possessed by a mythic weapon and a down-to-earth con who'd rather use fists than guns falling for each other just gives me all sorts of ideas.

Author's Note: I am trying to get this written out at the rate of a chapter every one to two days, however sometimes life gets in the way. I also find that writing when I don't have a plot fully outlined in my mind before-hand is a bit of a challenge. Sometimes it takes me a while to get going when I sit down to write and I end up losing valuable writing time in trying to figure out how to pick up where I left off when I desperately want to be writing the random as-yet-unconnected scenes for later that are currently in my head. Patience, I remind myself. All good things, especially in writing, come as the reward of being patient.

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"Give me a sec to wash up and change before we head out. Why don't you make yourself at home?" Sara tossed over her shoulder as she headed toward the only walled off section of the loft.

She didn't even look back to see what Elliot decided to do but she did smile to herself when she heard the door click shut and a pair of booted feet wander slowly around the space behind her. Curious but respectful, huh? I can deal with that. She thought as she tucked her gun and shield into the footlocker that served as a nightstand and locked it closed. She'd finally grown to trust that she could sometimes afford to leave her gun and badge behind at home when she was off-duty. The witchblade (and Ian's silent protection) were more than enough to handle the dangers of the ordinary world. If she were likely to encounter something out-of-the-ordinary, the witchblade always seemed to give her plenty of warning. And in the cases when the extraordinary intruded on her life, a gun and badge were usually no protection at all.

Elliot wandered between the worn furniture looking for clues about the woman he was suddenly taking out to dinner. No photos, no trophies, no real personal mementos to give him a clue as to the life she led. It was almost as if she didn't expect her tenure in this apartment to be anything more than temporary. Or, it was as if she didn't want anyone who might break into her space to be able to learn anything from it or damage anything she held dear. That tune sounded all too familiar to Elliot. She'd probably have felt right at home in his apartment, though he admitted that his furnishings were of a much better quality thanks to the paycheck from his Leverage, LLC jobs and Alec Hardison's good taste.

Sara gave herself a few minutes for a quick shower. It had been a busy day before she'd arrived at Gabriel's apartment; she could still smell the hint of something undefinable on her skin that she associated with the morgue. Not exactly the kind of scent that would be appealing when sharing dinner with someone-

Someone, what? Sara thought to herself. Exactly what sort of someone was Elliot Spencer to her?

Someone attractive, she grudgingly let herself complete the thought as she rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. As she dried off, she took a moment to evaluate the possibilities objectively. Sara hadn't allowed herself to get close to anyone romantically since Conchobar's death. She'd let herself fall too hard, had been hurt too deep, and she admitted that she'd rushed head-long into their relationship without really thinking about the dangers she'd been exposing him to with the witchblade's presence in her life. She knew better now. She couldn't let herself become attached to anyone. Everyone who got close to her died. In some ways, that made this situation perfect; Elliot had said he was from out of town. He wouldn't be sticking around therefore there was no way this could grow into a relationship.

Right, so there's no harm in going out on a dinner date with this guy and letting yourself enjoy a little flirting and harmless fun, is there? Sara pulled a sweater over her head that bared her toned stomach and accentuated her thin, athletic build. She failed to notice that for once, the witchblade had kept silent on the matter.

As she stepped back into the larger space of the loft, Sara gave herself a moment to take in the man who was sitting on her couch engrossed in something on his phone. Nice build, well muscled - hrm bet he's done some martial arts or boxing. Thick shoulder length hair that Sara itched to run through her fingers. (That had been the one thing Conchobar lacked; good hair. Sara LOVED a man with a good head of hair that she could tangle her fingers in when they kissed.) He had a nice smile but so far she had yet to see it really reach his eyes. However the fact that the expression was never all-encompassing just made her curious as to why. And speaking of which, those blue eyse were pretty appealing too. He dressed casually, comfortably, in clothing which fit him well and showed a certain sense of personal fashion. And the soft bit of southern accent she'd caught in his voice was smooth on the ears like whiskey and mint juleps. In all, not a bad package when one put it together as a whole. You could certainly do a whole lot worse, Sara chided himself. After all, there were guys like her partner out there. Jake was full of himself in a very unappealing way and the surfer boy look just didn't do it for her.

While not a fan of technology, Elliot did carry one of the more high-tech cell phones on the market. Nate, Sophie, and Hardison had finally convinced him of their usefulness after a couple of the jobs they'd done hadn't gone as planned. At the moment, he was taking advantage of the opportunity to send a quick email back to the office. :: Mostly done here in NYC. Job went smoothly. Managed to offload the Egyptian masks to my art dealer per our earlier discussion. He says it will be no problem to find PRIVATE buyers for these pieces at a good price. Hardison, can you dig up background dirt for me on Sara Pezzini and Ian Nottingham? Just send anything you find to my phone. See you all in a couple days. -Elliot::

He couldn't help himself; Elliot was incredibly curious about exactly who this woman was. All of the pieces he'd seen so far didn't quite add up yet and he just wasn't willing to wait to find them out from conversation or through asking Gabriel. While he didn't expect immediate answers, Elliot knew Hardison would be more than likely to have something for him within a couple hours. The man was almost psychically linked to his computer. He'd probably get the shakes like an addict in withdrawal if he had to be away from one of his machines for more than a couple hours, Elliot thought with wry amusement. He didn't have the chance to follow the line of thinking any farther as he heard Sara's footsteps coming toward him from the other room. When he looked up Sara stood framed in the doorway; her figure outlined and shown off to tantalizing advantage by the brighter light from the other room. The sweater she was wearing left him wanting to reach up beneath it's hem and caress the rest of the smooth skin hinted at by her exposed midrif. No gun this time, he thought, unless she's got it tucked into the back of those jeans or stuck in an ankle holster inside her boots. The gun was part of the puzzle he was still trying to figure out. Despite the potential violence in some parts of the city, the average New Yorker did NOT carry a gun. But then, he'd already guessed that Sara was something more than merely average.


End file.
